A Definate Hoot

25 January, 2002 || 9:49 a.m.

It seems like everybody except me has added an entry i the last 13 hours. So here is my entry.

I am going to a birthday party later today, it's from 1 - 4, but as I don't have a ride, and Midge isn't talking Beth, Cathleen's (the bd grl) Mom is picking Beth up early, I, too, must put my butt in motion so I can be ready to go at noon. I need snow clothes I don't think I *have* snow clothes. Perhaps I do, but to the full extent of my knowlage, I am not aware of that possesion, if it so happens to occur. I also need a devise for falling down a snow - covered hill. Now, you may be thinking "Well, golly, Emily, you're likely to just fall down hills *without* a devise, the way you're rambling on today." Or you may not.

Anyway, I was thinking about a really funny quote from this book Hate You by Graham McNamee. Here's the quote:

" 'Are you having Sex?' Mom asks, saying the last word like she's just learning the language. 'What? At this moment?' I say. 'No, I mean usually. . . .' 'Yes, Mommie dearest. I'm usually having sex. In fact, I'm late for it right now.' I look at my watch and go t get up. Mom sighs. 'I can never talk to you! And don't call me Mommie dearest.' 'We can talk. It's just . . . why do you ask a question like that? At breakfast, for God's sake! In the presence of Count Chocula!' "

HaHaHa. Isn't that a hoot?

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